


Ricochets

by IdrisTardis7878



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 23:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17011563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisTardis7878/pseuds/IdrisTardis7878
Summary: A quiet moment during the Horcrux hunt has the potential to bring Ron and Hermione closer together. But will distractions get in the way? A Deathly Hallows missing moment fic inspired by the deleted skipping stones scene.





	Ricochets

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on the Ron/Hermione fic archive and discussion board called Checkmated waaaay back before it was lost to internet history (*sniffle*). It's one of my oldies - but hopefully goodies. Enjoy!!

_Plop._

Hermione sighed deeply and moved her hand over her face, capturing several errant strands of hair that had escaped from her ponytail and tucking them behind her right ear. She watched the stone that she had just attempted to skip across the surface of the lake as it instead made slow but sure progress towards the bottom of the water.

Lifting her gaze and looking out over the lake, she breathed in, unsuccessfully attempting to savor the crisp fall air. By all rights, she  _should_  have been quite happy to be in such beautiful surroundings – but right now she felt anything but cheerful. The sun shone brightly in the pale blue sky and tall, craggy mountain peaks jutted upwards all around their campsite creating a valley that gently cradled the lake. The lake itself spread before her, its surface shimmering in the sun. Due to a rare lack of wind, it was completely free from its usual decoration of small choppy waves.

Yes, she  _should_  have been happy to be in such a gorgeous place with her two best friends, and had the circumstances been normal, she  _would_  have been. But things were about as far from normal as they could be, and so at the moment, Hermione was bordering on miserable. They had been in hiding for weeks now, and though she'd initially felt a flush of triumph when they'd succeeded at finding the locket so quickly, her joy had long since waned into bitter frustration. Though she was loathe to admit it, even to herself, and tried to squash the thought immediately each time it arose, she was starting to question whether they would  _ever_  be able to destroy it. And that thought only led her to wonder how they would destroy any of the others,  _if_  they even found them.

She was worried about Harry, who was simultaneously more withdrawn and more driven than she'd ever seen him; he was also angrier and more wounded than he'd been since immediately after Sirius' death, and part of her feared that he was heading for a total breakdown. She understood, but he was on the brink of driving her to distraction.

And Ron…oh, Ron was  _maddening_ , but for completely different reasons than Harry. Hermione dreaded the days that it was his turn to wear the locket – his moods would turn sour and his temper grew unpleasantly short. But difficult as those days were in and of themselves, they were made even harder to bear because of the contrast they bore to the days when he was free of the Horcrux's influence. On those locket-free days, she could tell that he would make an effort to be particularly nice to her. Making breakfast without being prodded, foraging for an extra supply of firewood so there'd be plenty for her turn keeping watch, and, she suspected, finding excuses simply to be near her. On those days, he even seemed to find innocuous reasons to touch her more often – all completely innocent moments that could be explained away as comfort, or friendship, but Hermione thought she could see a different meaning for them lurking in the depths of his eyes.

They were on the precipice of something  _huge_ , she was sure of it. But even so, what could they do about it given their current predicament? Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to release the tension by running out of the tent and screaming at the top of her lungs. She would have done it too, but she didn't want to have to deal with the reaction she'd surely get from the boys.

_Or perhaps I should just launch myself at him and snog him silly,_  she thought with a wry grin.  _Bet that would release this tension._

Her grin faded slowly as she tossed two more stones into the lake and watched them sink just as surely as the others had. Much though she might want to throw caution to the wind like that, she knew there was far too much at risk right now. Getting distracted by her feelings wouldn't help them complete the tasks that Dumbledore had set out for them. She  _had_  to stay focused on the priorities of their quest, no matter how difficult it was at times.

As she scrabbled for fresh stones in the area near her feet, her mind turned to one of the most pressing sources of her anxiety – herself. She had been researching like mad – reading everything she'd brought with them over and over, searching for any hint of a clue on how to destroy Horcruxes and any ideas as to what the rest of them might be, but she'd had very little luck. Even poring over  _Beedle the Bard_  for some hidden wisdom from Dumbledore had turned up nothing thus far. Books were failing her, and she in turn felt as though she were failing Harry. And none of them could afford for Harry to fail.

She grasped another stone and straightened, hurling it at the lake with as much force as she could muster, barely clinging to the pretense of trying to make it skip. When she'd ventured outside, leaving Harry inside with the locket, she'd hoped to calm herself down and clear her mind, but despite her original intentions she now found that she'd actually worked herself up into a bit of a state and she took a grim sort of satisfaction in the resounding  _plop_  the stone made before descending to the lake bed.

Her train of thought was broken by a flash of movement to her left and a new and different sound reaching her ears.

_Plip, plip, plip, plip, plip, pluuuup._

She could barely follow the quick progress of the stone as it skipped lightly from left to right along the surface of the water. It bounced five times before sinking gracefully out of sight. She knew what, or rather  _who_ , she would see even before she turned her head to the left. Sure enough, Ron was standing a few feet away, with a telltale bundle of firewood piled on the ground next to him. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest and a grin was tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You seemed to be having a bit of trouble with that," he said, and she could just hear the barely suppressed laughter in his tone. She folded her arms and matched his stance. If the prat thought she was in any mood to be teased, she'd sort him out right quick.

"Nonsense," she began in her best  _I-mean-business-so-don't-toy-with-me-Ron_  tone, turning back to face the water as she spoke. "I was intending to-"

"I could teach you, y'know?" he offered, his tone much softer and, she thought, tinged with hope. He'd moved closer to her, and when she turned to face him again, she sucked in an involuntary breath at his nearness. She looked up at him, and as their eyes met, an indefinable  _something_  passed between them. Hermione swallowed hard, still watching him closely and feeling suddenly like she was incapable of breaking the connection between them. And despite her earlier cautious musings, she felt part of her opening up, helplessly, towards him.

"Alright," it came out so softly that it was almost a whisper. She felt herself nod ever so slightly. "I'd like that."

The dazzling smile that spread across his face was mesmerizing and Hermione nearly forgot about what they were supposed to be doing. She took a deep breath and tried to focus, hoping he hadn't noticed her mooning at him.

_Although_ , said the persistent little voice in the back of her mind,  _would it be so bad if he did?_

Ron dropped in to a crouch near the shoreline, and motioned for Hermione to follow him. She did, suppressing a shiver when their knees brushed together lightly.

"You see," he murmured, bending his head and scanning the earth by their feet for the most ideal skipping stone. "You don't want any old rock. They've got to be smooth, and thin, and as flat as possible."

Hermione nodded again. "I know that," she spoke slowly, pretending to look for possible stones herself, but in fact taking the chance to watch the sunlight glint off his bright hair. Hair that had grown shaggy and overlong in the past few weeks – though if Hermione were honest with herself, that didn't diminish her desire to twine her fingers in it. To ensure that she resisted the temptation, she sank her hands into a clump of stones in front of her, fumbling for one that fit Ron's description. In truth, though she'd known what he'd told her, she'd not been terribly careful about the ones she'd been choosing before he came along.

"Ah, here," he reached across her arms to pluck one off the ground to her right. "This one is perfect." She'd expected him to keep it for himself and was surprised when he pressed it into her palm. "Here, try it now."

She rose to her feet and he followed suit, watching her with an expectant look on his face. Feeling slightly self-conscious, though she wasn't sure if it were due to her lack of skill with the stones or simply because it was  _his_  gaze that was so intently upon her, she cocked her arm back and, after a momentary pause, let the stone fly.

_Plip, plop._

This time, she'd at least managed one skip before the stone disappeared beneath the surface, but apparently she was still doing something wrong. She looked at Ron only to find that he was already hunched over searching for more throwing prospects. He was turned slightly away from her, and she took advantage of the opportunity to simply watch him for a moment. "It seems as though I still haven't quite got the hang of it," she said.

He turned back to her and smiled again as he stood. He'd selected several more stones, slipping a few of them into his pocket and keeping two in his hands, he held one out to her. "You just need to work on your technique a bit, and as they say, practice makes perfect…here, have another go."

She took the stone from him, their fingers slipping against each other for a brief moment, and as she faced the water she was struck with an idea. A thrilling, exciting,  _dangerous_  idea. "You could show me," she suggested softly.

He moved to bring his arm back and throw, but before he could let his stone go and illustrate the proper method, Hermione had reached out with her free hand and stopped him. "No, not like that," everything seemed to shift into slow-motion as she glanced at where her fingers were wrapped around his wrist before looking unblinkingly into his eyes. He startled at her touch and dropped his stone. She summoned every bit of courage she possessed and stepped closer, moving until she was in front of him. Instead of releasing him, she turned until they faced the same direction, causing his arm to wrap around her shoulder and throwing arm. His warmth was pressed against her back and she felt and heard his sharp inhalation behind her. Blushing, and thankful he couldn't see her reddened cheeks, she spoke again. "I thought this way would be…easier."

Part of her was internally chastising herself – flirting never came easily to her, and her common sense was telling her she shouldn't risk it – but the braver part of her, the part that had already yearned for him for far too long, was insisting that this was one of the cleverest ideas she'd ever had. His body relaxed behind her, and she felt his free hand curl itself tentatively around her hip. Suddenly it seemed like she had more nerve endings in that one patch of skin than anywhere else in her body.

"Okay," his voice was low and warm in her ear. "Are you ready?" His proximity allowed her to feel the vibrations of it rumbling through his chest and into her back and it took all of her restraint not to give in to the urge to shiver; but when the currents of his breath skimmed the back of her neck, she couldn't resist and a fine tremor ran through her body.

"Yes," she breathed. Her fingers squeezed around his wrist reflexively before she finally released it. She offered him her other hand, her fingers still curled around the stone which was now warm against her palm.

Slowly, his long fingers circled her right wrist and, using the hand on her hip to guide her, he turned their bodies slightly. They moved together, pivoting on their left feet so that their right sides canted back away from the water. She felt him adjust their hands until the inside of her wrist was facing toward the lake and her fingers were cocked back gently. His hand cradled hers and the surface of the stone was parallel to the lake. They moved together so naturally that Hermione momentarily thought how similar it was to dancing with him.

He paused and she took a slow breath in. Part of her was acutely aware of everything that was happening and each place they touched, but another part of her felt giddy and breathless. Surely she was dreaming…this  _couldn't_  be real. After all this time, waiting, could this be  _it_? Here? Now?

Then, before she could even exhale, he was moving them forward, turning them back towards the lake and guiding her arm and wrist through a crisp snapping motion. She was pulled out of her reverie, so startled that she let go of the stone. Thankfully though, it had been at exactly the right moment.

_Plip, plip, plip, plip, plip, plip, pluuuuup._

The stone danced nimbly across the lake, skipping six times in quick succession and kicking up miniscule jets of water that glittered in the sunlight. It finally disappeared from sight a good distance from shore, leaving a slowly spreading series of ripples behind. Hermione felt a grin stretch her cheeks, and, letting herself be carried along on the wave of triumphant adrenaline coursing through her body, she whirled around to face Ron. His smile was nearly as wide as hers, and as their eyes met, she felt a pulse between them that was so strong it was almost tangible.

"Ron…" she started, not even knowing how to finish the thought. Her arms seemed to be moving of their own accord, lifting as though to embrace him. But before she had moved more than a few inches, the moment was broken.

"Hermione!" Harry called out urgently from inside the tent and she turned to look in that direction. "I have an idea! Can you come and help me with…" The sound of his voice trailed away, though they could still hear him speaking faintly, and Hermione guessed that he must have walked towards the far side of the tent as he spoke, not waiting near the flap because he was expecting that she would be coming in. She turned back to Ron, who was regarding her silently. The spark in his eyes had dimmed a bit, and he looked resigned. She sighed.

"I'm sorry," she gestured halfheartedly towards the tent. "I have to find out what he needs." She stepped away from Ron, holding their gaze as long as she could before she was forced to turn away from him. He said nothing as she walked to the tent and opened the flap. But she could feel the weight of his eyes on her the whole way there. Just before she slipped inside, she glanced back. He was facing away from her now, looking towards the water; he'd taken one of the other stones from his pocket and was turning it over and over in his hand.

Regretfully, she took the last step into the tent, letting the canvas swing shut behind her.

Despite the distance, and the muffling effect of the tent walls, Ron's swearing and the haunting echo of a stone splashing hard – just once – into the lake reached Hermione clearly.

~*Fin*~


End file.
